


Hold Infinity in the Palms of Your Hand (and Eternity in an Hour)

by rosewiththorns



Series: Hot Blood [7]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddling, Detroit Red Wings, Discussion of BDSM, Dominant/Submissive, Endearments, Kissing, M/M, References to Sex, References to sex toys, Sexual Submission, Trust, erotic spanking, limits, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve just wants to hold Hank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Infinity in the Palms of Your Hand (and Eternity in an Hour)

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that this story, like the other pieces in this series, contains references to past abuse suffered by Hank, so exercise discretion when choosing to read this work. Thank you.

Hold Infinity in the Palms of Your Hand (and Eternity in an Hour) 

When Steve badgered Hank, who was still feeling bloated from a supper of roast chicken with a heaping side of cornbread stuffing and baked potatoes covered with chives and oozing with cheddar, onto the sofa, Hank’s blood pressure spiked—not with excitement like when he sipped a frappe but with tension like when he waited for the villain to attack the victim with a bloody chainsaw in a horror movie. 

Steve had never had sex with him outside the bedroom, but Erik had always been one to take Hank whenever and wherever the urge struck, so Hank supposed that he should have been used to that treatment by now. At least Steve was going to take him on the sofa, where the cushions would make it comfortable when Steve thrust into him, rather than on the coffee table, where his hips would smash against the unyielding wood every time Steve pounded into him. Hank had a lot of experience with coffee table sex. Erik had been sure to provide a bruising education in it…

“Your heart is racing fit to burst, baby.” Steve’s palm was resting above Hank’s heart but not beneath the cotton of Hank’s T-shirt, and somehow the sight of Steve’s fingers spread out over the fabric yet still warm enough to be felt as if they were brushing against Hank’s skin made Hank’s pulse slow slightly. “Relax. I just want to cuddle with you for awhile.” 

Steve drew Hank against his chest, where Hank could listen to the drum of his heartbeat, and Hank curled against him like a blanket, whispering, “I like cuddling, Master, but I didn’t know doms did.” 

“I don’t know about all doms, but I like to cuddle.” Steve stroked the hair away from Hank’s ear and traced the shell with his fingertips. “It makes me feel warm—like I’m protecting you and lavishing my love on you, precious.” 

“You use endearments when you speak to me now, sir.” Hank’s eyes darted up and down like butterflies hovering over flowers in a garden. 

“So I do.” Steve’s lips flew across Hank’s like bees, pollinating them with the sweet, pungent nectar of the honeydew and mint fruit salad they had eaten for dessert. 

“Would it—“ Hank took a deep breath before jumping off the conversational cliff—“be okay if I used endearments with you?” 

Steve went still and silent. Unsure whether that was an encouraging or ominous sign, Hank stammered on, “Not in public, of course. Just in private. When we’re cuddling like this. Would that be all right with you, Master?” 

“That’s an unusual request.” Steve arched an eyebrow, and the butterflies were flapping in Hank’s stomach now. 

“Sorry.” Hank’s eyes sank to the floor, and his heart clenched into a fist that punched a single, sharp message into his brain: Fool, no dom would ever let his sub address him with soft endearments that might make him appear weak. Hank would probably be lucky if Steve didn’t spank him for being so disrespectful as to make such a bizarre request. 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Steve flicked a finger across Hank’s nose in a teasing gesture that made Hank’s mouth slip into a smile. “In this relationship, you have every right to ask questions or tell me about your wants or needs. I want to hear your questions, concerns, and desires. Anything that comes from your lips is important to me. Got it?” 

“Yeah.” Hank burrowed further into the cave of Steve’s sweatshirt. “It’s just hard to believe that you care about me so much, sir.” 

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ or ‘Master’ when we’re cuddling like this.” Steve massaged the nape of Hank’s neck, bestowing on Hank a beam so radiant that it made Hank feel as if he had just been sunbathing for hours without getting burned by the brightness. “If we’re alone together and I’m not discipling you, you can use whatever endearments you like with me. How does that sound, handsome?” 

“Perfect.” Hank’s tongue swirled in his mouth as he tried to come up with the right endearment for the first time he addressed Steve in such a fashion before he settled on something so simple but so complex that it seemed to encapsulate the whole truth of his relationship with Steve. “My love.” 

Steve’s eyes turning to molten caramel for a moment suggested that he was savoring Hank’s words, and when he next spoke, Steve’s voice was shaky as tumbling dominoes, “Cuddling, as you’ve already discovered, is a good opportunity for talking about things.” 

“Does that mean you want to talk about something, honey?” Craning his neck to get a better look at Steve, Hank relished being able to add the endearment at the end of his inquiry.

“Yes, dear.” Steve cupped Hank’s chin. “We’ve got an invitation from Brett and Pavel to go fishing with them on Saturday morning.” 

“I suppose you want to go.” Hank bit his lip. He should have been eager to go as well—Pavel was his closest friend in Detroit—but he was anxious about what might happen when his dom took him to meet up with another dom and sub. Back in Sweden, Erik would make him pleasure other doms in ways that still made Hank struggle against his gag reflex at the mere memory of…

“I do.” Steve nodded, his forehead furrowing as he gazed down at Hank’s guarded expression. “You don’t?” 

“You won’t expect me to—er—do anything with Brett?” Hank mumbled his question more at the cushions than at Steve’s worried face. 

“Of course not.” Steve tilted Hank’s chin upward until his eyes were once more fixed on Steve’s earnest brown ones. “You’re my love and my sub. I would never force you to do anything with me, nonetheless with someone else. I hope you’ll be faithful to me, and I’m greedy enough not to wish to share you with anyone else.” 

“Being possessive isn’t attractive, darling.” Hank twisted his lips into an exaggerated pout, trying to ease out the awkwardness his inquiry had injected into the conversation and to release the coils of tension tightening his muscles with a playful remark. 

“Neither is pouting.” Steve tapped Hank’s bottom with a touch that was just the precise balance of firm and light to make Hank’s cock stir. 

“So you did want to get me on the sofa so you could do dom things to me, didn’t you, baby?” Hank gave Steve his cheekiest grin, hoping for another pat on his butt cheeks as a reward or punishment—whichever it was didn’t matter to him at the moment and either possibility seemed equally probable. 

“What dom things?” Steve didn’t disappoint by punctuating his question with a gentle smack on Hank’s backside. 

“I don’t know.” It was hard for Hank to think or speak when his body had taken over with needs only Steve could satisfy. “Rip off my clothes. Have rough sex with me. Use toys on me. Dominate me.” 

“Hmm.” Steve nipped at Hank’s ear like a puppy taunting a littermate. “I didn’t realize you wanted that from a relationship.” 

“With Erik I didn’t.” Hank gnawed on his lower lip. “With you I might. With you, it’s different, because you ask what I want and care about what I’m thinking and feeling. Erik never did.” 

“I’d never do anything you don’t want.” Steve accompanied this promise with a trail of kisses along Hank’s collarbone. “If you’d care to experiment, I have a chest of toys upstairs at the foot of my bed we can use in those kind of sessions. Before each session, I’ll have you select a certain number of toys for us to use—so I won’t be using anything you aren’t comfortable with—and during any session, you could always tell me to stop or pause if I was doing anything that didn’t bring you pleasure or went beyond your limits. If I felt that something was hurting you in any way, I’d stop immediately, but you would also have the power to end it whenever you wanted.”

“Could we—“ Hank nearly choked on the question—“have a session tomorrow when we get home from practice?” 

Hank was too tired to think about having such a session now, and he didn’t know if the idea of having one tomorrow made him more exhausted or exhilarated. He just knew that he had a craving for one, for Steve to dominate him—to take control of his body and begin to erase the memories of what Erik had inflicted upon it. With Steve, he could be vulnerable and not get wounded. In Steve’s arms, he was safe. Steve was his sanctuary, and each heartbeat they shared felt like it contained an eternity in heaven.


End file.
